Only If For A Night
by lionsandshadows
Summary: Sherlock shows John a side of himself, that John wants to discover more of.


John wandered up the stairs of 221b Baker Street to discover Sherlock curled up in the armchair, probably asleep he thought. He walked into the kitchen and made himself a cup of tea. The kettle was already boiled, so he presumed that Sherlock was not long asleep. He soaked a teabag in his cup with the boiling water, before taking it out and adding some milk and two sugars, as always. He briskly walked over to his desk, being cautious of spilling his tea, and opened his laptop.

-"John?" moaned Sherlock. "Oh, you're awake?" said John, turning around to see that Sherlock's eyes weren't open. "John…" Sherlock moaned again. A small crease appeared on Sherlock's brow as he muttered something that John couldn't understand.

He always looked so vulnerable when he was asleep, thought John. It was almost adorable. It wasn't often that he saw Sherlock past his stolid exterior. He smiled slightly, and then turned to write a new post on his blog. Trying to keep his mind off the things he would like to do to Sherlock, which was incredibly hard when all he could hear was him moaning in his sleep. It didn't help either that the noises had already made John half-hard. He wasn't gay. He'd never even thought about another man before, until he met Sherlock. There was just something about him that changed John, made him want Sherlock so badly.

John glanced at the calendar on his computer. _March 31__st__, again.._.

"Do we have any new cases, John?" Sherlock's voice came from behind him. John turned around to find him sitting up straight on the couch, looking at him, waiting for an answer to his question. John's eyes flickered to his own left arm, _what time was it?_ He was almost shocked to see that it was just after half past seven. Had it really been that long since he had come back? John must've been so absorbed by what he was writing, that he never heard Sherlock awakening or moving into an upright position.

"Em, no. No cases."

"Ugh, I need a case!" exclaimed Sherlock, jumping up off the couch and pacing the apartment restlessly.

"But didn't you say you were working on one?"

"I solved it, it was the nanny. She had an association with an eastern European smuggler. Do keep up, John." Said Sherlock, his steps growing slightly quicker.

"Well, has it ever occurred to you, Sherlock, that maybe you could find something else to do with your time? You could take up a hobby, or something."

Sherlock gave him a look that lacked any sign of eagerness towards John's suggestion.

"John, do you actually expect me to occupy my time with such pointless activities?"

"Well, you can't rely on that there will always be cases to solve. I mean, look at yourself, for Christ's sake! You're absolutely frantic." Countered John.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and tutted as he moved towards the window next to the fireplace. He peered out at the people wandering the street below.

"An intellect like mine cannot simply occupy itself with such intelligible tasks. I need adventure. I need danger, John! I crave the adrenaline, the excitement…"

"Well…" said John, attempting to deviate from the conversation. He stood up, grabbed his empty cup, and moved towards the kitchen to refill on tea.

"Oh, we're out of bread. Could you go get some?" said Sherlock arrogantly; as he picked up his violin from the chair and began playing a melody that was unfamiliar to John.

John turned around in protest.

"Why don't _you_ get bread? I've just been out."

"But what if somebody needs me to solve a case? Anyways, I've seen some of Mycroft's people wandering mindlessly out on the street. He's no doubt sent them to keep an eye on me. I have to stay here, John. It's the only solution." Answered Sherlock stubbornly.

John snapped. He could feel his heart accelerating in fury. God, does he always have to be such an insufferable bastard.

"I am tired of you bossing me around! I'm tired of you treating me like I'm just some stupid piece of shit that's only there to listen to you and keep you company! You always do this, treat me like I'm nothing…" roared John, pouring all of his rage into words.

There was a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, before either of them dared speak.

"I don't think you're nothing." Sherlock's voice was barely audible, it was innocent and scared, like a little boys.

John's eyes flickered up to meet Sherlock's. His eyes were fixated on him; his face was filled with desolation, as if he had just taken a dagger to the heart.

John could feel a lump in his throat as he looked at Sherlock who, for the first time, was showing genuine feelings towards him.

Sherlock's eyes moved to the floor as he hastily shook off any trace of emotion from his face. John quickly swallowed his pride, and decided to go out and cool off for a while.

John made his way towards his coat that was lazily draped over one of the kitchen chairs. He felt a warm hand on his hip, just as he reached for his coat.

"Please, stay here…with me." Sherlock purred for John's ears only.

John could feel his blood rushing south as he tried to compose himself. He could feel the strong hand slowly caress his hipbone.

"Sherlock, I-" John couldn't finish the sentence, without letting a groan escape his lips.

Sherlock's hands slowly drifted towards the top of John's trousers as he slid his keen hands into them to gently tease John's already hard cock.

Sherlock bent his head down to press soft kisses against John's neck, as John let out a moan that he had tried so hard to suppress. Sherlock used his free hand to interlace his fingers with John's.

"Please, Sherlock…" whispered John, pathetically trying to escape the strong arms of the man he so intensely desired.

"Why should I? I know that you're enjoying it, John… Your palms are sweating, I can feel your pulse quickening, you're not exactly putting up a convincing fight, and your cock is rock solid…" whispered Sherlock seductively, his breath hot against John's neck. "Or am I wrong?"

John moaned softly at the feeling of Sherlock's breath blowing gently against the side of his bare neck, before breathing in the smell of Sherlock's cologne. _"Fuck, Sherlock…"_ whispered John.

Sherlock needed this man; he needed to feel his lips against his. He unwillingly withdrew his hand to spin John around so that he was facing him. He then pressed his lips to John's in a moment of pure ecstasy. Sherlock's legs found their way in between John's as he tugged him forward until their bodies were pressed against each other. The kiss was hot and rough; John didn't even seem to notice that much when he was slammed against the kitchen wall. All he could feel were Sherlock's lips warm against his, and the hair on the back of Sherlock's neck as he pulled him in closer. John's hips jerked forward and he could feel that Sherlock was just as hard as he was. The urge to just rip each other's clothes off was intensifying, as his hands began tracing over Sherlock's sides.

"_I want you so badly," _whimpered John, as Sherlock's hips slammed against him.  
><em>"God, I need you…"<em> breathed Sherlock.

Sherlock grabbed John's thighs and lifted him up against the wall. John's back slammed against the wall again, although he still didn't seem to mind. John could feel Sherlock's dick rubbing against his, separated by only a few thin layers of cotton. Just the thought of Sherlock being inside John made his cock twitch.

"Take your trousers off." Commanded Sherlock, tearing away from John's lips, as he released John from his grasp. John didn't hesitate to do as Sherlock said. He hastily unfastened his trousers and freed his throbbing cock, as Sherlock began taking his shirt off and tossing it carelessly across the room. Sherlock bent down on his knees and began sucking on the head of John's cock.

"Oh, Sherlock…" John started jerking forward, into Sherlock's mouth, wanting more. Sherlock's head began to bob on John's length, whilst his hands began playing with John's balls. John was already moaning uncontrollably when he could feel Sherlock's tongue following one of the veins on his dick. John closed his eyes, feeling the waves of pleasure moving through his body, making him weak.

Sherlock began licking up the pre-cum that was on the tip of John's dick, before enveloping as much of him as he could without gagging. Sherlock knew that John was on the brink, so he removed his mouth slowly, taking his time. Sherlock stood up, assembling his usual elegance, before looking at John with eyes darkened with lust. "I think we should continue this in the bedroom, don't you think?" suggested Sherlock, giving John an impish smirk.

John nodded at Sherlock's suggestion and pulled his trousers past his feet and laid them over the chair, to save time taking them off when they were in the bedroom. Sherlock's fingers intertwined with John's as he led him to his bedroom.

Just after they were out of the kitchen, a faint knocking sound came from the door, as the doorknob began turning. "Excuse me, boys. I was just downstairs and thought I'd pop up to see if you needed anyth-"

"Don't come in Mrs Hudson," Warned Sherlock. "Now is definitely not the time…"

"Oh, ok then Sherlock... Sorry, boys!" Said Mrs Hudson from behind the door, before retreating back downstairs. John felt relieved to hear the sound of Mrs Hudson's steps ebbing away. Now it was just Sherlock and he. Alone.

The thought made his heart race. It made his mind run through all of the different places they could do it, and how nobody would ever know. It would be between him and Sherlock. Somehow that thought, of sharing something with Sherlock that was so profoundly personal and intimate, something that he would never want to share with any other man, it made John feel distinct. Like he was more than just a roommate, or companion.

Sherlock continued to lead John into his room, and once there, Sherlock turned around and pushed John down onto the bed. John pushed himself up a bit using his elbows, as Sherlock moved over him, straddling John's hips as their lips entwined fervently. Teeth grazed against lips and tongues swiped against tongues. John didn't ever want to break free from Sherlock's lips, not even for air. He could feel Sherlock's hands moving to the bottom of his jumper, and then lifting it up to reveal John's bare chest. Where that jumper landed, John didn't care. He let his elbows give way, and laid his back on the bed. He could feel Sherlock's hips thrusting against him, as he settled his hands on Sherlock's lower back. Sherlock let out a soft groan against John's lips, and then he began moving downwards, kissing the outline of his jawbone, leaving a wet trail before he began sucking on John's collarbone. John let out a soundless groan of pleasure. It didn't matter to John that there would probably be a mark there tomorrow, or that people would talk, he was loving this. He was far too dazed by desire to even care about what other people would say. This was worth it.

"I think we should take this a step further, don't you?" murmured Sherlock against John's flesh. John felt no discomfort about sharing himself with this man, this _beautiful_ man...

He nodded in agreement. Sherlock smiled happily as he reached past John to his bedside cabinet. He pulled open a drawer and hauled out a half used bottle of lubrication. _So this isn't his first time..._ thought John to himself, not that he was very surprised by this.

Sherlock quickly began undoing the button on his trousers, then kicking them off along with his boxers, so that he was totally naked. He squirted some of the lubricant onto his hand, before rubbing it onto his member. "Ok John, I need you to stand on all fours..." said Sherlock, and John didn't dither to obey. He felt Sherlock's fingers slowly circle the outside of his hole. Then his warm finger slipped inside. John inhaled deeply, relishing in the moment. The finger slid back and forth a while before introducing another finger, enhancing the satisfaction. The two fingers retracted, and then re-inserted themselves into him. This was nothing like John had ever felt before. Sure, he wasn't exactly inexperienced when it came to sex, but this was a completely different experience. Sherlock's fingers curled slightly, rubbing against John's prostate. A moan seeped from John's lips, as he lost all self-control.

"Are you ready for more?" asked Sherlock, even though he was pretty confident that he already knew the answer. "Yes...god, yes..." John was virtually begging to feel Sherlock move inside him. He withdrew his fingers from John, and placed himself at John's entrance. "This will hurt, but try to relax..." advised Sherlock. He slowly slid inside John, feeling his warmth envelop around him. John winced slightly in pain, but eased his muscles so the soreness wasn't as agonising. Sherlock's hips began thrusting back and forth, and John began to enjoy it the more Sherlock penetrated him. The sound of Sherlock's balls slapping against John's arse suggested that he was the whole way in. John grasped the top of the headboard, digging his fingernails into it while moaning in a state of sheer euphoria. Sherlock was groaning irrepressibly, his grip on John's hips growing rougher and coarser. Soon John began pushing back on Sherlock, wanting more. _Needing_ more...

It was soon necessary for John's hold on the headboard to tighten, because of Sherlock's pace increasing, his hips now slamming into John with such force. John's moaning was increasing, as he groaned out words of lust. This only made Sherlock pick up pace, as he slammed into John more forcefully. He wanted to make John beg, beg for mercy. Twice. Sherlock's hands were pressing into John's skin so hard, that he was inevitably going to leave bruises on his hips where his fingertips had been. "Oh, John... yes..." moaned Sherlock, his voice filled with desire. Gradually, the two of them fucked themselves into a state of bliss.

John tilted his head back, as he closed his eyes and let out an amatory growl. Their bodies rocked together in synchronisation, as they moaned in harmony with each other. "I want you inside of me, John..." murmured Sherlock. "Sure, ok..." answered John, as he felt Sherlock slowly slipping out of him. John released his grasp on the headboard to exchange places with Sherlock, so that their roles were now in reverse. John grabbed the bottle of lubricant as he massaged some onto his length and put a generous amount around Sherlock's hole, as Sherlock had done with him. "Are you sure about this?" asked John hesitantly. He was so callow, what if he did something wrong? "Yes, John. I'm sure." Replied Sherlock.

John positioned himself so that he was inline with Sherlock's entrance as his pushed in. He could feel Sherlock's muscles clenching around his cock, as he retracted and then pressed in again. The more John moved inside of him, the more Sherlock's muscles began relaxing. John's hands found their way to Sherlock's hips, allowing his thrusts to become more frequent and deeper. The only sounds filling the room were John's balls slapping against Sherlock, their groans of pleasure and the bed faintly squeaking as their weights shifted. The warmth that Sherlock was generating was so incredible, that John was on the verge of cumming. Sherlock's hand flung up and pressed itself against the wall as he let out a satisfied groan. John forced himself further into Sherlock, his hips now slamming into him just as hard as Sherlock had done with him. He wanted to provide Sherlock with that pleasure that he had given him; he wanted Sherlock to be completely dizzy afterwards. He thrust into him more vigorously, when he could feel Sherlock clenching around his dick. A deep moan filled John's ears, a voice that could only belong to Sherlock, as he saw cum ejaculating from Sherlock onto the bed sheets.

John could hear Sherlock panting, as he continued pumping into him, elongating his orgasm, intensifying it. John couldn't hold himself any longer, and released his grip on actuality to wallow in his own orgasm. Sherlock pressing back on him, until he was completely inside, heightened it. Waves of pleasure surged through his body as he lost himself in lust. He reluctantly pulled out of Sherlock. If it were possible, he would've stayed inside of him forever.

John was completely drained of all energy, as he plunged next to Sherlock on the bed. The two of them just lay there, surrounded by a comfortable silence, catching their breaths. Neither of them felt the need to speak; their recent actions spoke louder then they could ever put into words. It went unvoiced, but they both understood that what had just happened wasn't just something that occurred regularly.

"John," Sherlock was the first to break the silence. "What are you thinking?"  
>"About you, us, <em>this<em>..."

"Ok." Answered Sherlock in a small, slightly withdrawn voice.

"Any ideas? About us? What's happening, what's this?" John motioned at the space that separated the two of them.

Sherlock didn't reply. He just lay there, silent, staring up at the ceiling. John's head was turned to face him, expecting some sort of response. The lack of enthusiasm towards sorting out the... whatever it was that was happening between them, enraged John. It made his heart accelerate; it made his fists tighten.

"Do you regret it?" asked John impatiently.

"Regret what?"  
>John sighed in annoyance. "We just fucked, Sherlock."<br>"I'm aware of that, John."  
>"And you regret what you just did? Great... fucking great."<p>

"John, yo-"  
>"No, Sherlock, shut up. You used me, for your own benefit." Snapped John.<p>

"You were the first, John," murmured Sherlock, his eyes now moving to meet his. John was shocked; there was no way that this man was a virgin. He was far too amazing in bed to not have had some kind of experience before. "Not the 'first-first', but I've always been on-top, I've always been the 'butch' one... I've never trusted anyone enough to let them inside of me. You just..." He trailed off. "Never mind..." Sherlock's eyes returned to the ceiling.

John was completely mystified by this man, how it seemed like however well you thought you knew him, he would say something and you would realise how you had scarcely even scraped the surface of the wonder that was Sherlock Holmes.

"I've done a lot of things John. Bad things. I'm not a good person; you should know that. I have a lot of regrets, and you are definitely not one of them." Said Sherlock, his eyes never leaving the small piece of ceiling that he was focusing on.

"I don't regret you either, Sherlock." It felt nice to be that open, especially with Sherlock. They were always so detached otherwise. "_Caring isn't an advantage_" as Sherlock would've put it. He could feel all the rage he had felt, all the impatience, and annoyance diminishing now. They were quickly fading away as Sherlock opened up to John.

"John?" whispered Sherlock, unwillingly disturbing the silence between them, as he rotated his head to look at John.

"Yeah?"

"_Happy birthday."_


End file.
